June went out the door with her legs pushed through the hull of a small boat - I said she would sink before we both flew to the railway station. Here we met a family of little birds - one of which, I joked, looked like a little cat. I watched the train dissolve like a water soluble Aspirin before climbing up the embankment balancing as many pieces of Mayan architecture on my head as possible. The dog and I walked each other to the disused cottage and back: at night I would imagine wistful faces looking out but in daylight all I could see was a featureless emptiness. On my return I worked like a nurse in my wounded studio: a landscape materialising within a portrait - among brightly coloured flowers, broken branches suggested the buried bones of Black Death victims from Europe during the Middle Ages.